


"A certain carnal element"

by eyeslikerain



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: AU ten years after Hampden, F/M, Kissing, M/M, They are all alive, but they are still weird, dangerous situations on sofas, except the farmer, making out together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeslikerain/pseuds/eyeslikerain
Summary: Henry gently touched my arm and said very softly:“I can’t help it. I keep thinking about those weeks we lived together. You were so close. We could have…”





	"A certain carnal element"

Every year since the unfortunate night in the woods near Francis’s house we spent a weekend in the middle of November together. Nobody mentioned the true reason anymore, not even the first time when Francis suggested it vital we spend this particular night together. It was our secret bond, the fatal flaw in our otherwise perfect lives, buried all the year under our more or less successfully coping with what life held ready for us. I guess it was a strange mixture of Catholic penitence and a psychoanalytical need to look your demons into the eyes lest they chase you. Nobody ever backed out the first years. One year, Camilla even insisted on going out at night, just to the edge of the woods, and light a candle like Catholics did on All Saints Day on the tombs of their loved ones. Our silent procession was far from immature scary rituals in fall. We walked slowly and with a sense of guilt and the hope of redemption for the poor soul we had murdered. And here, I include myself without having been present at this night – our lives had become so intertwined, our past was one past, and I prayed in my way for the prematurely dead farmer as if I had been part of the Bacchanal as much as the others had been.

As we grew older and life’s toll on our time and obligations increased, there were the occasional absences. The ritual lost some of it’s importance. Bunny was the first one to duck out, mainly due to Marion who never cared to be part of our circle, and now like every second of the last years, because another baby was due. They expected their fourth child shortly before Christmas this year. Charles was excused also. After disastrous years, mainly spent in different expensive rehab facilities, things seemed to lighten up for him. Some years, he even brought along his new girlfriend (Francis sulked, claiming it was strictly a “family reunion” with no outsiders allowed). Now, they also expected the birth of their first baby and didn’t want to travel all the way from Texas.

So it was just Francis and me, Henry and Camilla, and their two children: Diana was seven, Lydia four. The two girls were the most beautiful little beings I had ever laid my eyes on, a mesmerizing mixture of their mother’s ethereal beauty and their father’s good looks. Henry’s piercing blue eyes under Camilla’s fair hair was a combination that never failed to touch me. Seeing the four of them together, united in love and strong family bonds, touched me as well. We were all surprised when Camilla announced shortly after graduation that they hoped for children soon. When the first one was on it’s way, we were even more astonished to see how serious Henry took the business: the aloof, remote scholar turned into a loving father, equally concerned about his tiny baby girl as about Camilla. He read every wish from her lips, and I rarely saw a couple so devoted and truly loving as they were. They never married, said they didn’t need this formal act. But Henry bought a house similar to the one he had shown us on a wintery drive through Vermont near Hoosatonic, a grey stone building, centuries old, and sitting lonely on top of a hill surrounded by acres of own property – just as they had dreamed. Different to Francis’s lavish, overdecorated house nearby, Henry’s and Camilla’s home exuded an almost puritanical austerity and cool elegance which matched the inhabitants very nicely. Despite clear lines, classical ground floors and much light through the large windows, it was cozy. All of the existing fireplaces were still in use, and Camilla even said Henry still used kerosene lamps when he wrote early in the morning.  
Camilla taught Latin and the occasional Greek class, should the school be lucky enough to have enough aspirants, at a nearby private school. Henry was on his way to become one of the country’s young shooting stars among the small circle of Classicists, but without affiliation to any academic surrounding, as was to be expected by his aloof personality. He didn’t care for honors, didn’t have to work for a career to obtain financial freedom as he already had it. Instead, he threw himself into translations which received the highest regards and the occasional lecture or speech at conventions. Camilla told us secretly that after each of those events their mailbox was flooded by invitations and the most desirable job offers. Henry opened them, snorted and threw them crumpled into the fireplace, telling her he would rather stay with her and the girls.   
They had reached a very happy, serene period in their lives, pursuing what they loved and burned for, being blessed with two adorable girls, living in the home of their dreams. They were the perfect couple. And looked the part when they welcomed us on their porch, huddled close to their white front door to protect themselves from the slowly falling snow: Henry in a grey v-necked sweater and black trousers instead of the suits of old times, Camilla in a black–and–white checkered skirt and a tight-fitting white sweater which showed off her still willow-like figure, each one with a cute, golden-haired girl on the arms.

“We should take a photo of you, you look like the mother of all Christmas cards!”, Francis cried when we climbed the steps, laden with our overnight bags, gifts for the girls and a basket filled with delicate hors-d’oeuvres and champagne Francis had selected. We kissed and hugged, and Diana immediately climbed into my arms.  
“Are we going to build a snowman?”  
“Why, yes, if there is enough snow.” I kissed her forehead. Nobody of us was married, we were no traditional relatives, but we were the “uncles” for the girls and had assumed the unofficial, but honourable role of godfathers to each of the girls. I loved this role, was proud of it and always happy to see our tiny nieces.  
“Dear, let them come in first and warm up after the drive. You can go outside with Uncle Richard later, yes?”  
Henry put one hand into my back and steered us gently into the hallway where we hugged once more, little squeaking Diana between us.  
“So good to see you again, friend”, he mumbled softly into my ear. I looked at him, a little surprised:  
“Why, yes. It’s wonderful to see you, too.”  
His blue eyes sparkled and he drew me closer for a second. Before I had time to get confused by this unusual display of affection, I heard Francis say:  
“Look here, Camilla, I got this fabulous bread of the Italian bakery I told you about, and some delicious spreads to make crostini – olive, sundried tomatoes, liver paté.”  
Francis and Camilla disappeared in direction of the large, warm kitchen.  
“That’s perfect – last time we were in Boston, I got black olive al forno. See, they are sealed. We will open them too, shall we?”  
Lydia danced around them: “Mommy, you promised I can help with the apple pie. Can I? Now?”  
“Just a second, honey. Let’s make some tea for Richard and Francis, and then we can start, alright?”

After tea, Henry went to his study to get some more work done. Francis helped Camilla to prepare dinner, and Diana and I went outside to romp in the snow. Her energy and joy were contagious. I chased her through the orchard, sometimes hiding behind trees, and she got it into her head I should drive her around in a wheelbarrow. We were wet and soaked when we finally got inside again. The sky was turning pink – we had been playing in the twilight already without noticing it. 

Francis and Camilla lounged comfortably on the sofas in front of the crackling fire. Lydia was asleep with her head in Francis’s lap, the book he had been reading aloud to her still clutched in her tiny hands. On the coffee table between them was a silver tray with daintily prepared crostini. Only at the second glance, I saw the little sprig of laurel Francis had clipped from our balcony this morning embedded among the hors d’oeuvre. Since our first November meeting, Francis had displayed a small, but significant allusion to their endeavors so long ago to remind us of the occasion: laurel was a frequent guest, one time even hemlock when the children were still too small to get onto the table, acorns and oak leaves, a pair of antlers. Francis and Camilla were sipping champagne. Camilla asked me if I would go upstairs with Diana and get her into dry clothes, dry socks especially.  
“Diana will show you where everything is. And honey - tell Daddy dinner is ready whenever he is ready, will you?”  
“Yes yes yes”, Diana replied in a silly voice and grasped my hand.

Once warm and cozy, she stormed through the upstairs hallway and crashed into her father’s study rather unceremoniously:  
“Daddy, dinner’s ready if you want!”  
And off she was again, running down the stairs at an intimidating speed.  
“Richard, why don’t you come here for a second?”  
From his chair, Henry looked at me through the opened door. I knew his study. It was still as tidy and sparse as ever, even a bit cold. I don’t think I could have worked in such monastic surroundings, but Henry didn’t seem to mind.   
I leaned in the door, feet crossed, and looked at him. Silently, he returned my gaze and gave me such a grave look that I suddenly feared there would be some serious announcement.  
“Is everything alright, Henry?”  
“Yes…”. He took off his glasses and started to wipe them. “Yes, of course. Everything is alright. It’s just” – he looked at me without being able to see me, squinted and put on his glasses again. “I watched you with Diana. Outside in the snow. She loves you. Do you know that?”  
“Yes, I do. I love her too.”  
“When I saw you in the snow” – he cleared his throat - “when I saw you there, in the twilight, I was thinking of the winter you spent in that awful place. Where you almost died.”  
“Oh, don’t remind me. Ten winters in Vermont have changed my relationship with snow, though. I’m much better at it now!”  
“So I saw.”  
He still looked at me solemnly.  
“I was thinking about our time together. When you lived with me.”  
“Oh. I see.”  
He got up, went briefly to the window to look out and turned to me again. His glasses reflected the lamp on the writing desk.   
“Do you ever think of that time?”  
“I don’t know what you mean?”  
“I mean, don’t you ever regret – I don’t know how to put it – missed opportunities?”  
“Pardon me?” I started to feel quite confused and tried to stay calm anyway.  
Henry came over to me, stopped only inches from my body. We looked at each other without saying a word. I heard the others chatting pleasantly downstairs and at the same time, my pulse hummed in my ears. Henry gently touched my arm and said very softly:  
“I can’t help it. I keep thinking about those weeks we lived together. You were so close. We could have…”  
His voice trailed off. I swallowed.  
“Henry, I don’t understand you. Are you sober?”, I teased, trying to give him a chance to call it all off as a misunderstanding. He slapped my arm, grinned, leaned his forehead onto mine anyway. I touched his shoulder and pushed him gently away:  
“For heaven’s sake, Henry, stop it. What Camilla and you have is too precious to risk. Please. Just stop it.”  
He looked at me, serene and calm, and took a step back:  
“Right. Right.”  
“Let’s go down to dinner, shall we?”  
“You go ahead, I will be there in a minute.”

After dinner, Camilla brought the girls to bed. Francis followed to read them one last story. I felt uncomfortable being suddenly alone with Henry, but he was his old, controlled self, suggested to move to the living room where he tended to the already burning fire, lighted two kerosene lamps on the windowsills and several candles on the coffee table. With raised eyebrows – obviously the only allusion to his former offer - , he switched off the two lamps which had provided light before and settled himself on the sofa opposite me. I couldn’t suppress slight goose bumps when he looked at me, but tried to draw him nonchalantly into a conversation about the house they had rented near Rome for their August vacation.

I was grateful when Camilla and Francis finally came back. They dropped side by side on the sofa next to Henry, Camilla leaning into him with her back and settling her legs onto Francis’s lap without asking. Francis and she have always been the most cuddly ones of our group, so it seemed a natural thing to do. While Francis graced her legs, I took in the breathtaking image they offered. No painter could have arranged them more artfully. The flickering candlelight added depth and mystery to their more than beautiful features. I was overwhelmed, and overwhelmed that my feelings didn’t have changed in more than ten years. And my position, though I had felt wonderfully accepted and integrated over the years, still seemed the same: not on the same sofa, watching from the outside, being on the “wrong” side.  
“Darling, you are staring at us. What’s wrong?”  
Francis smiled at me. I smiled back:  
“I was just thinking how I had a crush on each of you back in college. And look at you. Still so gorgeous I almost cannot take it.”  
I had tried to make it sound light, but somehow my remark changed the atmosphere. Francis’s hand stopped on Camilla’s leg. Nobody smiled or talked. I exchanged a long, silent gaze with Henry.  
“You are the most gorgeous one, Richard”, Henry replied slowly. I blushed deeply. What happened here? I let my eyes wander over the little group and tried desperately to change the subject when Camilla looked up at Henry:  
“Did you ask him already?”  
“Ask me what?”, I replied nervously.  
“Oh, you didn’t? Sorry.” Camilla pressed her lips together.  
Francis shifted, looked at me puzzled and wanted to know:   
“Pardon me, beloved ones, but did I miss anything?”  
A sudden tension hung between us. Before, it was a strange mixture of subtle languidness with an erotic undercurrent, now it was mere confusion. We exchanged some more intense glances before Henry cleared his throat:  
“Well, we meant to ask you something. Since it’s the first time since the unfortunate night it’s only us together…”  
He groped for words. Francis stiffened.  
“Henry, please don’t say you want to repeat the Bacchanal.”  
“No! No, of course not. I think we all have enough of that for a lifetime.”  
Relieved, Francis sank back onto the sofa and put one hand back onto Camilla’s leg.  
“I wouldn’t mind some aspects of it” – Francis let one hand wander under Camilla’s skirt and must have tickled her in a sensitive spot because she squeaked and giggled – “but I never again want to lose my mind like that.”  
“That’s exactly what we were thinking about.”  
Henry put one hand behind Camilla’s back and laid it on Francis’s shoulder. Francis threw him a glance, surprised and slightly amused.   
“You were thinking about…”, he looked at them askingly. Camilla leaned forward, kissed his cheek and explained in her deep, husky voice:  
“We were thinking about the getting naked part. Fooling around a bit. No drugs, no fasting, no out-of-body-experiences. Except the ones a nice orgasm can give you.”  
I froze. Francis snorted:  
“Darling, you are out of your mind already. I mean, look at you! You have children! You have – a responsible life! Don’t you?”, he added, suddenly insecure. Silence expanded around us and I heard my pulse in my throat.  
“Please don’t tell us you have the wildest sex parties here when your daughters are in bed”, I said.  
Henry and Camilla looked at each other, seemingly incredibly amused.  
“Richard, sharp as ever – you got it even faster than I thought.”  
Henry leaned back. I looked at Francis, who looked at me as incredulous as I felt.  
“So, what you are telling us is – you arrange for a good babysitter, invite some people over sometimes, and – off you go, like the old Greeks?”  
“Yes”, Camilla replied charmingly, as if Francis had asked her something mundane about a cooking recipe.  
“You are a teacher, Camilla!”, I gasped.  
“Even teachers have sex, dear.”  
“I don’t think my teachers from school did something like that”, I mused.  
“They did”, Francis and Camilla said at the same time. They giggled, laced their hands together, and Francis raised Camilla’s hand to his mouth. Henry seemed to massage Francis’s neck. They seemed to get a bit too comfortable over there, so I asked:  
“But you forgot this teeny detail that we are all in happy relationships. You are happy, aren’t you?” They nodded, and I hadn’t expected anything else. “I would never want to risk what I have with Francis. It’s too precious.”  
“Did you never… I mean, you have no experience expanding your relationship?”  
“No, Henry, we don’t, and we never felt the need to expand something that is already so beautiful and perfect. I don’t need anyone besides Richard.”  
I looked at Francis gratefully, blew him a kiss over the coffee table and hoped the matter would be settled by his statement. Henry got up to poke in the fire and came over to my sofa afterwards. I shifted to make room for him. He just looked at me amused:  
“No need to be frightened, stay where you are.”  
Without Henry to lean onto, Francis and Camilla rearranged themselves and got even closer. He kissed her on the mouth and asked:  
“So tell us. How do you find people? I mean, living in rural Vermont I don’t assume you include locals?”  
“No, we don’t. We intend to live here longer, you know.”  
I couldn’t believe my ears.  
“It’s quite easy, you know. Among the classicist circle. They are usually not averse to some – well, expanded symposia.”  
“And – always the same people?”  
“No, not necessarily,” Camilla cocked her head. “There is a colleague from school I have a serious crush on… But otherwise, we are open to all possibilities.”  
“So I see”, Francis chuckled. I was dumbstruck.  
“And this colleague – Henry, do you like him?”  
“Her”, Camilla corrected.  
“Oh”, Francis seemed surprised. “I didn’t know you…” He kissed her on the mouth.  
I was completely shocked by this abyss of amorality which gaped open before me. Henry and Camilla seemed the picture – perfect couple to me. I couldn’t understand why they jeopardized their life like that, especially since they had children. I started to voice my concerns when I heard Henry:  
“We might have loose moral standards for some people, but we are open about it to each other, which is very important, and we just like it that way. And our relationship is strong enough. We know what we have in each other.”  
“And I always thought the gay ones are the hedonists with the wild parties. Francis, did we do anything wrong?”  
“No, we didn’t, my heart. I am completely happy just with you, and as far as I am concerned, it can stay this way. But if you want to go ahead… expand some…”  
“Stop it!” We all giggled. “Of course not!”  
“Well, if you are sure…” He looked at me, suddenly earnest again. “If we do it, I would feel more comfortable to do it with – friends.” Camilla kissed him. He kissed her back, a little bit long for my taste. Henry chose this moment to put a hand on my thigh. I panted and slid away from him.  
“But don’t you fear to destroy something if you do it with friends? I mean, our past and everything that connects us – it’s precious to me, I wouldn’t want to risk that. Besides, I heard it’s safer to do such experiments with strangers. Healthier for you as a couple…”  
“You always talked too much when you were nervous, Richard.” Henry came closer and started to brush my cheek. I tried to avert my eyes but his blue, mesmerizing gaze held mine. I felt myself melting, like a hypnotized rabbit. He stroked my neck gently, and to my utter surprise, leaned in to kiss my mouth. I was too astonished to draw back. So I kissed him back and opened my lips a bit. Henry moaned.  
“I am no expert in these things, but don’t you think matters might progress smoother if I freed you from your pantyhose?”, I heard Francis mumble. I pulled away from Henry and, still in his arms, watched Camilla reclining and lifting her hips. She looked at Francis from almost closed eyes while he started to remove her pantyhose, tenderly and slowly, covering her thighs and knees with little kisses. I swallowed.   
“I love you, darling, you know that?”, he said. She nodded. ”But I couldn’t sleep with you. I just cannot.” I raised myself from Henry’s embrace and hoped Francis would stop here and there and tell me to get up. Instead, he looked at Henry and me: “But I wouldn’t mind watching. Watching one of you with my beautiful golden-haired girl here. If you would feel comfortable with that, Camilla.” I shivered. What abysses lingered even in the persons we think to know best? Camilla sighed and drew Francis down to her:  
“That’s an incredibly exciting idea.”   
Meanwhile, Henry kissed me once more and I lost my breath.  
And so, matters progressed slowly and tentatively. I was at the same time present and bodily involved – increasingly so – and watched the four of us from a distance, asking me repeatedly if we had gone completely out of our minds. But I wasn’t strong enough to stop it.

Francis and Camilla were entangled side by side and kissing slowly. I watched his hands wander under her skirt with one eye until Henry kissed me with lips and tongue and hands and I couldn’t but surrender. I felt one of his hands on my cock and couldn’t but moan softly.  
“Oh, you like that, do you?”, he whispered into my ears. I shuddered from the tickling air as well as from his touch. “Would you have liked it back then? When we lived together?” I nodded silently, drowning in his eyes. “Would you have let me touch you like that if I had come to your room then?” I nodded even more and kissed him fervently. We continued in this way, I involuntarily bucking up into his touch, kissing passionately, until he whispered: “I need to feel you without any clothes between us. Would you like to go to an upstairs bedroom? And get more comfortable?” I stopped. One part of me wanted to oblige as soon as possible and tear all clothes from Henry as well, the other part of me was just sane enough to realize that we moved on very thin ice now. When Henry started to loosen my belt and search for the buttons of my trouser, I stopped kissing him and moved up a bit.   
“Henry, I am sorry, I can’t. I can’t do this.”  
He looked at me, more disheveled and undone than I had ever seen him. We were still close and whispered, but Francis and Camilla must have sensed the sudden change of atmosphere and looked at us.  
“I cannot cross this line with you. I am sorry.”, I whispered, stroking his cheek and smoothing his hair back.  
“Let me worship you with my mouth”, he breathed into my ear. I shuddered and moved to get up. He held me back:  
“Maybe you need some time to get used to the idea? Maybe we could see that as a prelude to something… more interesting?”  
He saw my hesitation. I was torn, to tell the truth. But I shook my head weakly and got up. He stopped me by the shoulder and whispered into my ear:  
“You have always been a bad liar.”  
I struggled free from him. Rearranging my clothes, closing my belt again, I went over to the other sofa. There was a small, black bundle on the ivory cushions. I picked it up - it seemed to be Camilla’s panties.  
“Your underwear, madam.” I let it dangle from my finger. She took it:  
“Always the perfect gentleman. Thank you, dear.”  
“He always is”, Francis stated, “in every situation. That’s why I love him.”  
I looked at him.  
“I want to go upstairs. Come with me?”  
He got up and took the hand I had offered him. Our eyes locked – amused, frightened, so glad to be together again like children who had passed a very dark, scary forest.

Henry got up also and came to us. Francis was almost as tall as him. They faced each other, chin up, eyes fierce, and Francis said in a mock accusing tone:  
“I hope you enjoyed kissing my husband.”  
“Yes, thank you for asking. I hope you had fun with my wife as well?”  
They broke down and smirked. Francis leaned forward to kiss Henry on the mouth, longer than I ever had seen them kissing, and said:  
“Good night, you maniac. Hope this new idea of your’s won’t get us into as much trouble as the last one.”


End file.
